The intricacies of galactic culture clashes by Sara Ryder, Pathfinder
by Reyavie
Summary: Certainties of Sara Ryder's life include: Angara are odd and keep turning their backs on her, Drack knows more than her, Liam's afraid of older ladies, half her job consists in running after farm animals and Evfra is now avoiding her. Ah, and her AI is following someone else's orders.


**xxxXXXxxx**

Cultural clashes had become the norm of the day on the Tempest. Humans sharing bunk space with Asari and Angara, with the occasional Turian pushing a Krogan through the entrance, was bound to cause one or two more complicated arguments and the odd confusing (and embarrassing) question. It was to be expected. Hell, she had expected it from the get go, listening to her father going on and on about their future in the new Galaxy.

"What do you mean with she is an orphan?" Their habit of speaking in the halls about anything and everything had apparently called the attention of the Moshae. Who now stood towering above her, narrowed eyes turning from Liam to her and God, she felt like taking a step back. "Where are your mothers? Don't tell me they allowed you to travel so far with just your brother? That is unthinkable."

It was possible that Liam _did_ take a couple of steps back and was using her as a shield. As the man was clearly much taller and broader, Sara took a moment to sigh inwardly about her teammate. Just because Angara were still alien to him and this one looked particularly incensed for some reason she could not understand, it didn't mean he should embarrass her.

"We only have the one, Moshae," she explained calmly, dislodging the hands gripping her shoulders (honest to God, man). "She died before the trip and dad died after it. It's okay though. I mean, I have Scott. He's more than enough."

If possible, Sjefa's eyes narrowed _further_. Any more and she wouldn't be able to see.

"You have no mothers."

The Pathfinder shrugged, "Yes."

"I see. If you would be so kind, I need to rest and think. And find an interface I can use, perhaps Jaal will be amenable to borrow his. If you would excuse me."

Sara attempted to reply but before her lips could open, the Moshae had already stalked off. Not before analyzing every inch of her face for _something_ and tugging a strand of her red hair.

"…I have no idea what's going on," she confessed to the now empty hall.

"You and me, Pathfinder."

She had almost forgotten of the fully-grown man hiding in her coattails as if it wasn't ridiculous at all.

"You're just two idiots," came Drack's kind drawl from the kitchen. "Don't worry about it."

Sara wondered if perhaps she should stop talking in a public setting. It seemed to get her in trouble with everyone on her ship.

 **xxxXXXxxx**

"Evfra, I understand that you're worried about our presence but it's not like I can police every colonist that arrives on Aya. I cannot be everywhere."

Sara had no idea how long she had spent arguing this matter with the Leader of the Resistance. Only that the light outside the windows had dimmed, her head was screaming in pain, her stomach was empty and, ah, yes, _it had been quite a while._ Why so stubborn? How couldn't he get she couldn't be expected to be the angel on everyone's shoulder while battling Kett, founding outposts, negotiating with raiders and keeping her ship from imploding?

"You need to police their behavior nevertheless. If they come here, they should be taught. If they cannot be taught, you are to st—"

His communicator beeped, stopping his tirade mid-sentence.

His eyes went down.

Then up.

Then down once more. There was an odd tinge to his features which Sara couldn't quite place. Couldn't be annoyance or anger, God knew she had seen those enough for a lifetime ever since the beginning of their acquaintance.

"I did not know she liked you so, Pathfinder." That did sound greatly like a growl. "How did she know we were meeting? Did you run to her?"

"Excuse me?"

The communicator pinged again. This time, the darker hue travelled all the way to his ears.

"Fine! I will take care to have someone else inform your people to _behave_ themselves. Now tell her to stop threatening to call my mothers. It is ridiculous!"

The Pathfinder watched him stalk off. When had watching angered Angaran walk away become a fixture of her life?

 **xxxXXXxxx**

The Alliance had been a time of movement, of being sent everywhere with enough protein bars to keep her up and running all over the place. Being a Pathfinder was worse. SAM did try to keep some track of her food intake and God knew Lexi almost shadowed her whenever on the ship but honestly, there was no time and Prodromos was calling yet again. If they needed her to run after more animals, Sara was sure she'd cry.

In these moments, she really missed her dad. Especially when she knew he should have been the one chasing after a menagerie through a dusty plain while listening to a full grown _old_ krogan complain how he hadn't signed up for that.

Turning in her place, the woman gripped the closest jacket, pushed it over her back and ran out. Only to find out (painfully) that the door was not opening.

A curse echoed through the air.

"SAM! What the hell's going on?"

"The door will open once those are consumed, Pathfinder."

Sara wasn't sure if she even voiced the loud _what_ running through her mind but, whatever the case, SAM would know. Standing from her impromptu place on the floor, the Pathfinder looked around quickly. There was no time for this. There were things running around that she didn't want to chase and with her luck Liam had shared yet another batch of confidential information while Vetra angered ten assorted groups of mercenaries. There was no time!

In her bedside table, there was a plate.

She blinked quickly, head twisting to the side. It was so simple, so inconspicuous that she hadn't even understood her refuge had been intruded upon.

"SAM," Sara called out slowly. "Why are there tea and cookies in my room?"

The AI _hesitated_. "Unidentified sender, Pathfinder."

"How is that even possible?" This was not happening to her. "You were right there. You're always right there! Was it Lexi? I told her I was going to eat later."

Her comment was completely ignored. "I am also following you, in the NODE and tracking the remaining pathfinders. I cannot be everywhere at once."

Of course he could! He was an _AI_! "How can you even lie to me? You're in my head!"

"I am." It wasn't possible but Sara could swear SAM's globe had _nodded_. "She asked not to tell. She also asked to make sure you ate."

Even her AI was against her now.

Goddamnit!

She threw herself onto the bed and pouted into a biscuit.

 **xxxXXXxxx**

"Jaal! Jaal, your cape is in my room."

She hadn't exactly lost the habit of yelling out in the hallways. Still, it was just so much easier to stick her head out and yell her comments instead of running through the ship. Besides, they all did it!

"Is this Jaal's cape?" A hand pushed the fabric away from her, inspecting it carefully by the light of the hall. "I believe it is called a _rofjinn,_ " Peebee continued, turning it from one side to another. "Isn't Jaal's blue?"

Indeed, it was. Instead of the bright blue the Angara sported everywhere, this fabric was red, a deep burgundy which was just that inch away from black. It was lovely, soft and elegant, even if tailored to rest above an armor just like Jaal's.

"That is not mine," Jaal elaborated calmly, sticking his head out of the crew's quarters. "I thought you would see immediately. It is far too small for me."

Peebee pushed the item back into the Pathfinder's hands.

"SAM, if I ask who sent it…?"

"You certainly can but I am not sure the name will be of help. Sala Mal Doran."

The part of her brain where he didn't exist was definitely annoyed.

"That reply is not an answer, SAM. Should I bother asking why this was sent?"

"She says it would look beautiful on you," the AI continued. "It matches your hair. Incidentally, she did not know what hair was or what it was called. Now she does."

Hesitantly, the woman pulled the oddly soft fabric over her shoulders, watching as it seemed tailor made for her narrow shoulders and smaller stature.

"Lovely, Ryder," Jaal nodded. "I will tell them you liked it. They will be most happy."

He turned and prepared to…

"Don't you dare stalk off, Ama Darav!"

 **xxxXXXxxx**

"Sholaon, paavoa!"

The Angaran in the market had chosen that moment to hug her, a smile from eye to eye before stalking off as if nothing had happened. It had been the third in that hour alone.

"They just wish to welcome you properly, child. You should embrace it." This one was a female, older, Sara would wager, with the same kind gaze she saw so often on the Moshae. Her fingers rested on the human's shoulders, lightly tugging the rofjinn into place. "Yes. It looks very good on you, my human. Sjefa was right. Let us go have dinner, shall we?"

What was it with these Angara!

"But you don't even know me!"

The woman smiled, a small flash of teeth which made it seem she was thoroughly amused by something. She even patted Sara's cheek as if she was a wayward child. "My sister does. And she is right, no child should lack a mother or a father or siblings. A life without them is colorless as water in a glass. We shall spare you that, our child."

Blue eyes shone in a kind face, filled with compassion smoothing angular features which were still so alien. Her arm was offered.

"How about we walk home, Pathfinder? I have many to introduce you to."

There was no way to decline. There was no will either. Hesitatingly, the human grasped that arm and followed.

Hey, at least this one hadn't stalked off without her!

 **xxxXXXxxx**

The purple skin looked lovely to her pained eyes; the skin ever so gentle against her feverish body. It had been so long since Sara had felt this. Lexy was nice but Lexy was also Lexy. A doctor, analytical, looking at her body like a canvas she would paint from number 1 to 100. She saw the wound which had crossed her flesh and prescribed enough medicines for her body to numb and infection to stop spreading. Everything else was left for another. Like Scott, if he was not asleep.

Instead, Sjefa sat by her, a hand against her forehead, lightly keeping track of her temperature while she worked away on the datapad sitting on her knees. Almost as if she knew what, to a human, would be dangerous.

"Mother?"

It was a two-fold question. Blue eyes turned to her as their owner smiled. A sedated smile. _You should have known earlier_ , that smile stated.

"Of course. You took your time to figure it out," she declared calmly. "My sisters were quite put off by your confusion."

Something in her swelled, happy and bright, enough to make her forget about the pain still ripping apart her flesh. It was just so _nice_ waking to a kind _caring_ face, a feeling she could not put into words. Sometimes emotions were too big and too amazing to be reduced into simple syllables.

"Yes, my Sara?" The Moshae noticed. Of course, she would.

Her conflict was pushed aside as meaningless. "Thank you for coming," Sara said simply.

"It was a joy to." Her fingers slipped through her hair, carefully. Almost as if she was aware that, to a human, it would hurt if tugged. As if she had cared to search. "I will come whenever you need."

In that lull between sleep and awareness, her lips moved.

"Evfra's running away from me now," she whispered.

"I suggested you might be a good match. He does not think so." The amusement was impossible to ignore. "Now sleep. I have a report to finish."

Sara had literally nothing against that order.

xxxXXXxxx

 _Sara, what are you wearing?_

 _It matches my hair! Look, they did one for you too!_

… _I have no idea what's going on._

 _That's because you're an idiot, Scott. Don't worry about it. I still love you!_

* * *

Author's note: Sholaon, paavoa: rough Angaran for "welcome, adopted sibling". Sala Mal Doran; yes, it is based on the Stargate character's name merely because I like it. Here as the Moshae's sister.

I am aware the Moshae informs Ryder of her choice not to have a child because she would not be able to devote as much time to her work but I disregarded that for this piece. I cannot help but think she would be horrified by an orphaned child running around without support of her family. Which snowballed into this. Hopefully, it made you smile.


End file.
